Missed turn

Missed Turn

Huh.
Well, damn
airport pre-dawn
bye-bye
see you soon
safe travels

alone,
I missed my exit.

I blame the leaves —
pink hues
pink-yellow
pink-red
pink-orange
pink haze
reflecting the pink and bluing sky
mesmerizing ephemeral beauty — blinding me

Berating myself
I take the longer way
waste of time
mistake that it is

noticing
my surroundings
I think
maybe …
maybe I needed
to wander wonder —

to take this road that wound by
the river — dancing, shining

to see the cold beauty
of Sikorsky’s Blackhawk — perched, steely, deadly

to watch morning workers
coming to terms with the day — coffee, steaming, vests, reflective

to experience this moment
this dawn this way — unhurried, alert

who knows what normal monotony
I avoided missing my turn
taking the winding way

Huh.
Well, damn.

Published by jabbokdawn

I am, well ... me. I am probably most defined by my diversity of experiences: I have lived in three countries and visited (or lived on) six continents. I love to garden and take pictures and think about theology (and grace and justice and all that jazz) and I love Jazz (and a whole lot of other music too) ... and I do yoga and go hiking and enjoy meeting new people and talking international politics and working on justice issues and watching wildlife in my yard and wandering in NYC and kayaking. I especially love sitting in coffee shops and talking to friends. I hate sitting in my office. Oh, and they call me "Pastor," at least some of the time. View more posts